Chapter 36
Theo
I’ve been coming to the Branch since fifth grade.
It was the baseball team’s favorite spot to grab dinner after a game, I had my first kiss in the bathroom hallway one Friday night, and my first drink at the bar the day I turned twenty-one.
This place is full of memories, but all I can recall as I sit here with Maddox are the ones that include Fable.
Like when she fell into my lap, completely rerouting the course of our relationship. Her birthday, when I got to hold her in my hands and spin her around the dance floor. Last week, when she ordered soft pretzels even though she doesn’t like them, just so we could dance again.
She’s everywhere here. I should’ve told Maddox to pick a different place for dinner.
The solid oak door creaks open behind me, and my heart skips a beat. Maybe it’s her. Turn around and see.
My thoughts must be written all over my face, because Maddox glances behind me and shakes his head with a sympathetic half grin.
We’ve just finished putting out a fire in a shed outside of town, so with my sweat-stained clothes and the smell of smoke clinging to every inch of me, it’s probably for the best that I don’t run into her right now.
But I miss her something fierce, and I’m finding it hard to focus on anything else.
I miss how she takes up the entire bed when she sleeps and the feel of her bare skin against mine.
How her lashes flutter when she’s dreaming.
Grilled cheese with our toes pressed together on the middle cushion.
I miss her stealing bites of my food and the tiny twitch of her mouth when she’s secretly proud of herself.
The exact color of her eyes when she’s about to say something snarky.
The way she smells and tastes. The sound of her laugh and her little growl.
My lips on her tattoos and her hands in my hair.
I miss her. Period.
So I’ll probably keep checking that door. I can’t help it.
“Are you finally ready to admit you’re down bad?” Maddox arches a brow.
All I can offer in response is a sigh. I know I am. He knows I am. I don’t have to say it out loud.
The days of silence are wearing on me. Even soccer practice—my one chance at seeing her—got rained out yesterday. My fingers are itching to open our text thread and send her random updates on my day, ask her how she’s doing, find out if she’s remembering to eat something other than cereal.
But every time I pick up my phone to contact her, something heavy drops in my stomach.
Our conversation is still rattling around in my head constantly.
She wanted to leave, and that hurts all the way down to my bones.
I know that seems to be her track record when things get hard, but I didn’t think I would be included in that.
She’s battling all kinds of doubts and insecurities and grief, but my heart aches when I think about how easily she pushed me away.
I was ready to tell her I’m in love with her. She was ready to run.
And the fact that she knew right where to stab me . . . it fractured something I thought we had mended.
Dave called me yesterday and said his bowling league had an opening—apparently his friend Steve is moving—and I jumped at the opportunity to join them.
I won’t lie, I went there hoping to dig up some information about Fable, but once I heard she was with her sisters, I let it go.
At least she has people with her and she’s not driving across the country without a word to anyone.
For the record, I ended up having a blast at bowling. Those old guys know how to have a good time and letting go of the last few days to enjoy myself with them was more freeing than I expected.
Maddox tips his head. “You doing okay?”
I swallow a sip of water, trying to decide on my answer. I’m surprised when “I started therapy this week” comes out of my mouth.
His brows lift slightly. “That’s great. How was it?”
That’s a bit of a loaded question. Therapy should really come with a warning label: Beware! Gets worse before it gets better! Turns out I have to pick open every scab and prod at what’s underneath to make any progress.
“It’s certainly not fun to dredge everything back up.” I shrug. “But my therapist said if I want the wounds to heal the right way this time, we have to give them some attention. And I’ve been ignoring them for too long.”
Pride flickers behind his eyes. “How can I support you in this?”
There’s a rush of pressure in my throat. It’s such a simple question, but so profoundly thoughtful. My voice comes out watery when I tell him, “Thank you for even asking.”
With a nod, he stands and comes to my side of the table, pulling me up and into a hug. And in the middle of the Branch, both of us smelling like smoke and sweat, we hold each other tightly.
“I’m proud of you,” he murmurs.
“Me too,” I admit. I’m proud that I’m going for me. Not because it will make Mia or Mom happy and not because I think it’ll fix anything with Fable. I’m going for myself, and at the core of it, I think that’s the most important part.
When we’re both back in our seats, Maddox lifts his water glass and I meet it with mine. “Now, tell me how I can support you.”
I down a sip. “It might be helpful if you wanted to check in and make sure I’m attending my appointments.
We’re starting with a two-a-week schedule for the foreseeable future.
In the past, I’ve brushed them off or made excuses that there were more important ways to spend my time.
So, some casual check-ins might keep me on track. ”
“I’m on it,” he assures me.
My face scrunches up. “You might be ‘on it’ for a while. According to my therapist, this is a long-term thing.”
Earlier this afternoon, he explained, “Healing is an ongoing process for the rest of your life. I don’t have a stamp in my office where I give you a seal of approval that you’re healed.
Your goal is not to check off ‘therapy’ on your to-do list and then go about the rest of your life.
As hard as it is to hear, we’re in this for the long haul. ”
Maddox grins. “You know I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”
I let out a breath of relief. “Perfect. You’re stuck with me too.”
Our conversation meanders for a while. We talk about his boys and Vivian, Mia and Bree’s wedding plans, and rehash the fire we got called to this afternoon.
Then Maddox asks, “You ready for Saturday?” as I get out my card to pay for dinner. We used to argue about who was buying, but we’ve settled into a routine of switching off and calling it even.
“Mostly. Still wishing we had more volunteers, but I’ve reached out to everyone I can think of. We have a lot of people helping transport animals, but I’m still worried it isn’t enough.”
Arthur hasn’t mentioned our conversation from Monday, so I’m continuing to prepare for the adopt-a-thon. I figure, if he’s angry enough to fire me, he’d probably be better off doing it after the event.
“The fire department could volunteer,” Maddox offers. “That’s ten or fifteen more people who could be helping. Plus . . .” His eyes sparkle with mischief. “People love a firefighter-animal combo. Those are big on social media. We could even wear some gear, play up the whole thing.”
I twirl my straw through the ice in my glass. “That’s a great idea, actually.”
“We’d draw in a crowd.” His brows waggle.
“Think we can put that together in two days?” My mind spins with possibilities.
He pulls out his phone. “I bet we don’t even need one. You just tell me where to send people.”
I open the spreadsheet on my phone where I’m keeping most of the transfer and volunteer info, and within ten minutes, we have five firefighters and two of their partners on board to help.
As we get up to leave, Ethan’s voice rings through the bar. “Got an order of soft pretzels, folks!”
Cheers erupt around us, then the first few notes of “Just the Way You Are” start up.
My mouth feels full of sand as I walk toward the door, weaving through couples on their way to the dance floor.
Dancing with Fable out there is still so fresh in my mind—her pink cheeks and messy bun.
The way that flowery dress flirted with her knees when she moved.
The pain of it must be etched on my face by the time we get to the parking lot, because Maddox leans closer and bumps his shoulder with mine. “It’ll work out, Theo. I know it will.”
I clear my throat and give a voice to the thought that’s been plaguing me for days. “And if it doesn’t?”
“Already told you—I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”